Opposing the Cowboy

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Opposing the Cowboy Page 18

by Margo Bond Collins


  When she finally glanced down at the picture on the screen, a crack of laughter shot out of her. “A Superman TV Guide?” she asked incredulously.

  “George Reeves, from 1953. That one all by itself is worth about a thousand dollars.” He stood up and held his hand out to her. “The library my friend works for is willing to shell out about three-quarters of the total price for all of them right now, or you can auction them off and potentially get even more.”

  Absently, still staring at the image on the phone, she took his fingers in hers to stand. As soon as she touched him, an electric spark shot straight from his arm to his heart. Her slight jump suggested she felt it, too. She stepped away from him and looked down at his phone again.

  “That’s more than the oil lease,” she said slowly.

  He nodded. “Enough to take care of Sami and Bev and have money left over.”

  “I need to call them.” Her gaze upon him was steady, but wary.

  “You could use the money to buy the mineral rights back from them, if you wanted.” He took a step toward her.

  She paused, her gaze turning suspicious. “But?” She blinked, and her expression changed to panic. “Is it too late?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. That’s not it at all. In fact, I talked to Sami last night.”

  “And?”

  Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for an instant, then came out with it. “And I bought the rights from her myself.”

  Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she gasped, and she crumpled to the mat in a heap. “Oh, God. How could you?”

  Jonah dropped to his knees beside her, pulled as if by a magnet, drawn to comfort her. “No, LeeAnn. Not for Natural Shale. Not to drill.” He laughed a little as he gently pulled her hands away from her eyes, softening his voice to match his touch. “I realized I could never do that to you.”

  She blinked at him doubtfully, her eyes a stormy gray.

  He could stare into those eyes forever.

  But not if I don’t explain myself soon.

  Scooping up the folder from the ground, he handed it to her, then watched as she skimmed the papers inside. “It’s all yours,” he said. “The papers are signed and notarized, and Sami’s boss is on his way to register the transfer with the county.”

  She glanced down at the paper one more time. “Won’t you get in trouble with your company?”

  “Not my company anymore. I quit, right before I called Sami.”

  “You what? Why? What about your father? Your promotion? What will you do?” Her questions tumbled over one another, even as she stood perfectly still.

  A small smile began to form at the corner of his mouth. These kinds of questions were good.

  “I’m fine, LeeAnn. I can go to work for another company, if I want.” He shrugged. “And I’ve got enough set aside that I don’t have to work for a while, even with Dad’s bills.”

  She waved toward his phone. “What am I supposed to do with all that money?”

  The smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Absolutely anything you want. Start your own yoga studio. Take in abandoned horses. Pay your taxes, maybe?”

  “Why are you doing all this?” She didn’t move away from him, but she didn’t move any closer, either, and she didn’t return his smile.

  “Because,” he said, his voice suddenly turning rough and hoarse, “I love you, LeeAnn. I about died when I thought you’d taken that jackass back. You deserve better than him.”

  She blinked, processing his words. “Jackass? You mean Darrell?”

  Jonah couldn’t help but notice that she hadn’t responded to his declaration of love. His stomach twisted, but he ran a hand through his hair and kept talking. “Hell, you probably deserve better than me. But you won’t find anyone who loves you more than I do.” He stopped and waited for her response.

  When there was none, he grasped both her hands in his, gazing down at her intently. “But for this to work, you’re going to have to trust that I have your best interests at heart—you’ll have to trust me. I will never, ever do anything to hurt you.”

  There was a long pause, as LeeAnn stared at him with solemn gray eyes. “Do you mean it?” she finally asked.

  “Absolutely.” He nodded, his grin returning.

  An answering smile lifted the corner of her lips.

  And then she was launching herself into his arms. He crushed her against him, his lips tracing her face, her neck, her mouth.

  “Wait,” she said, pulling back a little. “Why on earth would you think I had taken Darrell back?” Lines furrowed her brow as she gazed up at him.

  “I saw you with him at the Wagon Wheel last week. When I left the paperwork on your car.”

  Her laughter pealed across the pasture, so loud that the surveyors looked up from their work. “I didn’t take him back. I left the diner after I saw you leaving. I tried to follow you.”

  “You did?” He blinked. A weight he hadn’t even known was there lifted from his heart.

  “Yes. I wanted to tell you that I wasn’t angry you had found the letter. I want Sami and Bev to be happy. I was willing to let Natural Shale drill.”

  His smile expanded.

  “Come on,” she said, tugging him toward the house. “Let’s go call Sami and Bev and tell them the good news about their share of the magazine money.”

  “Their share?” He tilted his head.

  “Yeah. Someone recently told me that people are more important than things. I figure I’d better put that into practice. Otherwise it’s bad karma. It’s their inheritance, too.”

  “I think that sounds like a great idea,” he said. “But first, let’s tell the survey guys that their work here is done. I’ve got plans for that field this afternoon.”

  “Oh, really?” she asked, her tone teasing. “What kind of plans?”

  He toed the mat with the tip of his boot. “Think this thing will hold two?”

  “Only if they’re very, very close.” She grinned up at him.

  “Oh, I plan to be.” He swept her up into his arms and pressed his mouth against hers. “Very close, for a very long time.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and twined her fingers through the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck. He could feel her smile against his lips as she spoke. “Okay, Superman,” she said. “Let’s fly.”

  Epilogue

  LeeAnn stepped onto the front porch, admiring Jonah’s muscular form as he moved out of Blackie’s stable and latched the door behind him. Beside the building, the John Deere tractor was once again running and in regular use.

  Jonah spun around and flashed a grin when he caught her staring. “You ready for this?”

  A slight shiver ran through her. “Absolutely.”

  Holding out his hand, Jonah walked slowly toward the path leading to the paddock. LeeAnn caught up with him and slipped her hand into his, marveling at what a difference such a short time could make.

  Hard to believe that only a few months ago, I thought he was set to destroy my world.

  Instead, he improved everything he touched—including me. She smiled at the memory of how they’d spent last night. “Improved” was definitely the right word.

  Sami had been right at that barbecue back in the spring. LeeAnn had never learned to trust anyone. Not until Jonah came along and turned everything she believed upside down.

  Well, almost everything.

  “Hold on for a minute,” she said as they drew close to one of the outbuildings that had housed so many of her gran’s hoarded items—now cleaned out, the objects sorted, treasures saved, valuables stored or sold to fund this latest improvement. “I need to grab something.”

  Pulling open the door, she stepped lightly inside and moved past a small lobby to the back room, where she flipped on a light switch. Tiny fairy lights blazed to life, outlining the mirrors on all the walls. The foam flooring bounced slightly under her feet, and she smiled, remembering the day she had discovered that Jonah had ordered the flo
oring as a surprise for her. She had stared at it blankly until he told her it was the first part of a renovation he hoped she would let him do on this building.

  Her own yoga studio. And they’d built it together.

  She’d given her first class in it on Saturday, to Jonah, Sami, Kylie, and Cole. Afterward, they’d all gone out for buttermilk pie at the Wagon Wheel.

  Now Jonah was about to help her make another dream come true.

  Rummaging through the basket where she kept her keys and shoes when she was inside, she finally found what she’d been looking for and slipped it into her pocket.

  “Okay,” she said breathlessly when she got outside. “Any word from Sami yet?”

  “They’re pulling in.” Moments later, he swung the new paddock gate open as a truck pulling a horse trailer rolled to a stop in front of it. Sami hopped out of the passenger side and rushed around to the back, opening the trailer gate and murmuring softly.

  It was all LeeAnn could do to stop herself from following, but she reminded herself that too much excitement could do more harm than good. When Sami finally appeared again, gently leading a gaunt pinto, tears sprang to LeeAnn’s eyes as she watched her cousin guide the animal past the fence that Jonah had spent hours repairing, through the second pasture that they had cleared together, and into the newly patched and freshly painted barn.

  A light feeling spun through her, fluttering in her chest and erupting as a quiet, joyful laugh. She walked toward the barn.

  “Something funny?” Jonah asked, hooking the gate closed but leaving the lock dangling open.

  “Happy,” she said with a smile. “There’s a lot to do to get a new horse settled—but before we get started, I wanted to give you this.”

  Reaching into the front pocket of her jeans, she pulled out a melamine keychain, similar to the ones sold in Cowbelles. She started to hand it to him but pulled it back in her fist at the last minute. “I know this isn’t really anything big, but I wanted you to have something to always remind you who you are to me.”

  This time, she dropped it into his hand, surprised by the tiny flutter of anxiety in her stomach.

  Jonah stared for a long time at the miniaturized reproduction of the 1953 TV Guide cover with George Reeves as Superman. Then, still examining the image, he took the key to the gate out of his shirt pocket and began threading it through the ring.

  “The thing is,” he said reflectively, “I thought that you decided I was the Henry Cavill Superman.”

  As she burst into laughter, he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her into a long, slow kiss worthy of any Superman.

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  Acknowledgments

  First of all, thanks to all the readers out there—without you, this book wouldn’t exist. Thanks to my family for love, care, and attic space above and beyond the call of duty. You’re the best! My eternal gratitude to the BICs, because this would be a lonely endeavor without your support, and to Allison, for teaching me how to write romance. To Pamela: all the love and gratitude for you being you—and for naming TexZen! Special thanks to Melanie for all the last-minute email reads and for introducing me to so many other writers, and to Lateia for knowing I need a finder (and for being the other half of The Plan). Thanks always to the Taylors for being my best friends for so long. As always, to Deb for keeping me connected to this world, even when my head is in the one I’m creating. To The Vampirarchy: you’re the best street team an author could ask for. A huge thanks to my editor, Alycia, for responding to my endless questions and email messages with kindness and grace. And to everyone at Entangled: you’re amazing. Special thanks to Entangled’s copy-editor, proofreader, cover artist, and publicist for making me look good. You’re all the best! Any mistakes are my own—and anyone I missed, know that I appreciate you all more than words could ever say.

  About the Author

  After a decade of moving all around the country (Los Angeles, New York, and Atlanta are a few of the places she’s lived), Margo Bond Collins has settled in her native Texas, where she teaches college English courses online and writes contemporary romance, urban fantasy, and paranormal romance. Margo lives near Fort Worth with her daughter and several very spoiled pets, and she spends most of her free time daydreaming about heroes, monsters, cowboys, and villains, and the strong women who love—and sometimes fight—them.

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